


Something to be thankful for

by ChrysCare



Series: (Something Universe) [1]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 05:24:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2680673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrysCare/pseuds/ChrysCare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy Thanksgiving</p><p> </p><p>Something Verse is all stories set in this universe. they mey be before or later or not related to each other-meaning that they feature the kind of bond Jazz and Prowl have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something to be thankful for

All is quiet around the base, no one was up or moving around. The Autobots were in deep recharge, the Decepticons . . . 

 

Six hours earlier . . .

“Don’t you guys celebrate Thanksgiving?” Sam Witwicky asks as he stands beside Bumblebee in the hanger of their new base on a newly formed island in the Pacific Ocean. Optimus Prime kneels down to the human.

“We do not,” Optimus Prime looks at the human, Ratchet’s yelling comes from the med-bay and Sunstreaker and Sideswipe run past. The twins trip over a military jeep and tumble into the side of a hanger. 

“Now that you had your run, you will tell me where your stash of High-Grade is,” Ratchet stands over the twins with his servos on his hips. Sunstreaker backs away until he hits the wall.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sideswipe shakes his helm and Ratchet grumbles.

“Ironhide has a spot for you in the training course,” Ratchet walks off, back to the med-bay. 

“Why can’t you guys make stuff with Energon?” Sam looks up at Bumblebee. “I mean it’s energy right? You could shape it couldn’t you.”

“Perhaps with some additives,” Optimus Prime stands and looks down at Bumblebee. The young scout nods as he receives a comm. from the Prime. “Bumblebee will take you to the rec room to meet some mechs that just recently landed. You may help with the Energon.”

Sam climbs onto Bumblebee’s servo and the yellow and black scout walks toward the hanger designated the rec room. It was in the center of the base, surrounded by the med-bay, the officer offices and the weapons vault. When they enter the hanger, Sam sees a black and white mech siting with a silver mech that looks an awful lot like Jazz, but Jazz died in Mission City. He saw his body. Ratchet couldn’t fix him. 

“Bumblebee,” the silver mech jumps out of the booth and runs up to the scout.

“Jazz?” Sam asks as he sees the silver visor when the mech walks up to them. 

“The one and only,” Jazz bows extravagantly. His visor glows a soft blue when he looks back up.

“But you died,” Sam frowns, glancing up at the black and white mech as he walks up. The mech looks like Barricade but with blue optics and a red crest on his head. 

“I would be the reason Jazz is back,” the mech says, voice as chilling as Barricade’s yet not carrying the malicious tone of the Decepticon. 

“How?” Sam looks confused up at the new Autobot. 

“I carried half of his spark with my spark,” the Autobot says. “He is special operations, they tend to get deactivated often. In order to stop this and bring them back, regular mechs the Special operation mechs trust are bonded to them. Jazz chose me, as long as I continue to function Jazz will be brought back every time he decides to become a toy for Megatron.”

“Prowler’s been my friend since before the Autobots,” Jazz says and wraps his arms around the black and white mech. 

“You were a thief,” Prowl glares down at the smaller mech. “It was my duty to detain you.”

“Uhm . . . should we come back or something?” Sam looks at Bumblebee. The scout makes a noise, sounding like no. He clicks and whirls to the others and Prowl stares at him.

“Optimus wants this?” Prowl asks glancing down at the human before looking up at the scout. Bumblebee clicks. “I know just how to do it. Praxians and Seekers had a long tradition in making Energon treats for parties and gatherings. Perhaps it is time to start that tradition again.”

“You mean I get your amazing icing covered Energon treats?” Jazz looks up at Prowl, the top of his helm resting against the Praxian’s chest. 

“It would seem so,” Prowl leads the bots and human into a small storage space sectioned off in the rec room for the Energon tanks. “This trade was passed down from my mentor to me.”

 

Five hours until present time . . .

Prowl takes the steel sheet out of the heating unit and sets it on the titanium table. The rounded pink Energon glows on the sheets, there are small crystal fragments glittering on the surface of them. 

“How did something liquid turn solid?” Sam asks as Jazz picks one of the treats up to test it. Jazz puts it in his mouth and hums. Prowl watches Jazz with bright optics, an almost non-existent green scan runs over the silver mech. 

“Still as good as ever,” Jazz leans over on Prowl. Prowl nods and starts placing the hardened Energon treats on the table so he can make more. 

“Can you make them into shapes?” Sam asks as Prowl takes the sheet to the counter.

“It depends on what shape it is,” Prowl turns to look at the human. “There is a substance that goes over the Energon to make it form. Outside of placing it into a mold, it’s impossible to form anything other than round treats.”

“I know just the thing then,” Sam says and whispers to Bumblebee. Bumblebee picks something over the radio to play and transforms for Sam to get in.

“Shall I wait?” Prowl asks, blue optics sparkling with amusement.

“I think ya should,” Jazz watches as Bumblebee peels out of the hanger. 

Four hours until present time . . .

Jazz takes another of the Energon treats from the table while Prowl sits and reads a report on the data-pad he always carries around. 

“Jazz, those are not your personal reserve,” Prowl states without looking up. Jazz reaches for another. His frame locks and he glares at Prowl. “You will not stuff your face with the treats.”

“Let me have my frame back,” Jazz huffs. Prowl glances up at the saboteur. A hint of mischief shines in his optics. 

“Why would I do such a thing as that,” Prowl sets down his data-pad and walks over to the table with the Energon treats and Jazz. Jazz glances up at him, still frozen in place. “You were the one who wanted to be special ops. You were the one who let me in. Who let me in to control your frame. My spark is entwined with yours. I can control you.”

Prowl leans down to Jazz’s audio. Air passes over the silver frame from Prowl’s vents, he whimpers as Prowl puts his servos on his shoulders. 

“And I say . . . do not consume or take any more of these treats until I say otherwise,” Prowl whispers and pulls away. Jazz whimpers louder as his arm drops and he regains control of his frame. He looks at the treats.

“Prowler,” Jazz whines, Prowl laughs and walks over to his data-pad. “I’m gonna learn how to control yer frame one of these days.”

“You’re the subservient spark,” Prowl states as he reads. Jazz walks over to the booth and sits across from the black and white mech. “It is not in your spark to control my frame.”

“I could,” Jazz crosses his arms. 

“I highly doubt that, the sensory information from my doorwings alone would crash your processor. It is not the way of our bond. I keep you alive. I control you. You have no control but you do live as long as I do and Praxian’s normal spark expectancy is a long time.”

“I could always break the bond,” Jazz counters, Prowl looks up at the saboteur. 

“And you will immediately deactivate,” Prowl stares at Jazz. “You’ve deactivated five times. Your spark is no longer capable of sustaining its own energy. You are stuck with me.”

“Stick in the aft,” Jazz huffs and falls down on the bench seat of the booth. 

"Jazz, go get one treat and consume it slowly,” Prowl turns his attention back to the report. Jazz jumps up and grabs a treat off the table. 

“You’re still a stick in the aft,” Jazz sits on the bench.

“I could always tell you to set the treat on the table and stare at it,” Prowl counters. Jazz grumbles and slowly consumes the treat.

 

Three hours until present time . . .

“We’re back,” Sam calls out.

“Finally,” Jazz falls out of the bench and jumps to the table with the treats. Prowl sets down his data-pad and walks up to the human. 

“What did you bring back?” Prowl glances at the grocery bag and runs a scan over it. “Those are quiet small.”

“Oh . . .” Sam frowns and glances down at the bag.

“Wheeljack could make Cybertronian size,” Jazz glances up at Prowl. Prowl nods and holds out his servo for Sam to climb on. Prowl walks into the inventor’s lab to find him working on a weapon for Ironhide. Wheeljack looks up when Prowl steps up to the table.

“What can I do for you Prowl?” Wheeljack sets aside the circuit board. Prowl sets Sam on the table and Sam digs out one of the metal shaped things. He sets it on the table, Wheeljack leans down to examine it.

“Optimus wanted some Energon treats made, Sam asked if they could be shaped into certain shapes,” Prowl looks at the inventor. “Would you mind making a set of Cybertronian molds in these shapes?”

“Do I get a box of them?” Wheeljack looks up.

“I suppose I could spare a few, that is, if Jazz can keep his servos off them.”

“They should be done in an hour,” Wheeljack says as Sam sets the cookie cutters on the table.

 

Two hours until present time . . .

“Are they done yet?” Jazz asks as he lies on the table. Prowl’s data-pad rests against the saboteur’s shoulder.

“Wheeljack has not commed me,” Prowl continues to read. Jazz glances over at the tactician.

“How can you keep reading that report? It’s a matter of life and death.”

“Jazz, go have one more Energon treat,” Prowl sighs. Jazz flips off the table, data-pad falling flat where Jazz was. 

:They’re done,: Wheeljack’s comm line comes through. :Where do you want them?:

:Let me deal with Jazz for a moment and you can bring them in here,: Prowl stands from the booth and steps behind Jazz. He leans to Jazz’s audio. “You are going to recharge for one hour.”

Jazz’s systems shut down and he falls limply into Prowl’s arms as Wheeljack walks in with a rack of cookie cutters Cybertronian size. 

“Thank you Wheeljack,” Prowl nods and lays Jazz on the bench. He takes the cookie cutters into the storage unit to start.

 

One hour until present time . . .

Jazz onlines in the rec room, the smell of Energon treats makes him jump up. He looks around and doesn’t see Prowl anywhere around.

“Now’s my time,” Jazz silently walks into the storage unit. He stops in the doorway when he sees Energon crumbs everywhere. “Who ate all the treats?” 

“Shut up Sides, you’re going to get us caught,” Sunstreaker says, Jazz watches the gold twin back out of the Energon room. 

“Not my fault you ate them all,” Sideswipe says. 

“This batch of Energon will work, we could make them all again,” Sunstreaker says. Jazz steps aside so Sunstreaker doesn’t run into him. They pass right by him, carrying the Energon tank.

“Oh, hi Jazz,” Sideswipe says. Sunstreaker stops and Sideswipe jumps. “Jazz!”

“I didn’t know ya two were Praxian,” Jazz steps up to them. 

“Ratchet taught us for punishment,” Sideswipe sighs. 

“He made us make treats and then give them away,” Sunstreaker sighs. 

“Right, so ya got an hour until the party. Ya need help?”

“You won’t tell?”

“Cross my spark and hope Prowler brings me back,” Jazz steps up to the counter. 

 

Thirty minutes until present . . . 

Optimus Prime takes one of the turkeys shaped Energon treats. He savors the treat before taking another. The other Autobots talk and laugh as they eat their Energon treats. 

“What did you put in this?” Ratchet asks Prowl as they sit at the booth. Jazz happily munches on two treats at a time.

“Just mid-grade Energon,” Prowl looks down at his treat.

“If I didn’t know better than I would think it was High-grade,” Ratchet takes another treat.

“I didn’t think I made this many treats,” Prowl looks around, the table the treats are on still has a pile of them. 

“Ah don’t feel too good Prowler,” Jazz whines and falls flat on his face on the table in deep recharge. Prowl looks around and sees all the Autobots falling into recharge. Even Optimus nods off where he sits beside Ironhide. The twins are curled up on the floor, Energon treats piled around them. Prowl looks down at his treat, the second one he took. He runs a scan over it and finds it more than mid-grade Energon. Ratchet’s helm meets the table with a loud bang that makes Prowl jump. 

“Decepticons attack!” Megatron yells, Prowl looks around. All the Autobots were in recharge. He was the only one left. He stands silently, grabs a couple of treats off the table and stands near the door. Megatron stomps into the rec room and freezes in his step. 

“Energon treat?” Prowl asks holding out the glowing pink confection. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Starscream grabs the treat out of Prowl’s servo, gaze falling on the table piled with them. “You made these?”

“Yes,” Prowl states. Megatron looks at him warily. 

“You poisoned them,” Megatron growls.

“Would I poison my own faction?” Prowl motions to the Autobots. “Pick one and I’ll show you that they aren’t poisoned. Megatron steps up to the table. Looking over the treats he finds one in the shape of horn. 

“This one,” Megatron holds out to Prowl. Prowl takes it and eats it. Megatron watches the Praxian with calculated optics. Prowl still stands. 

“Please have some, they have no other place to go,” Prowl steps aside to let the other Decepticons in. 

“I guess the rumors are right, Praxians know how to make Energon treats,” Megatron says as he eats one. 

“Seekers do too,” Starscream trills as he takes a fourth. 

“Why haven’t you made me any?” Megatron growls.

“I didn’t know you like them,” Starscream takes a fifth. 

 

Present . . .

 

All is quiet around the base, no one was up or moving around. The Autobots were in deep recharge, the Decepticons were recharging right beside them. 

Prowl picks up the last Energon treat, savoring it until it dissolves.

“Who knew Sunstreaker and Sideswipe would be the ones to end the war,” Prowl laughs and stands from the booth. "Now that everyone will be quiet, I can finally work in peace. I’ve never been so thankful for a battle computer and energy reserves.” 

Prowl walks out of the rec room and to his office. 

“Where is everyone?” William Lennox asks as he spots Prowl. Prowl looks down, optics shimmering.

“They are recharging in the rec room. Our war is over.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“The Decepticon leader agreed to end the war. We will all live on this island in peace.”

“How?”

“I and the seekers now have a full time job creating Energon treats,” Prowl starts to walk away. 

“Aliens,” William Lennox shakes his head as he walks to the rec room hanger and opens the human size door. He stops in his tracks as he sees the Decepticons recharging beside the Autobots. “Heh, now pigs need to fly.”


End file.
